


If You're Searching For Something To Bring You Comfort...

by PinupGhoul



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Time, Gratuitous Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Sappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10463493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinupGhoul/pseuds/PinupGhoul
Summary: Nora leaves suddenly to help out a settlement in need, abandoning Danse in Goodneighbor. It goes about as well as expected, especially when Mayor Hancock decides to give him a well-deserved hard time.





	1. Chapter 1

How could she do this to him? One second Nora was discussing Bobbi No-Nose with Goodneighbor’s so-called mayor, and the next she was jumping to answer a settlement’s call for help. Paladin Danse couldn’t fault her for that, but she certainly didn’t have to command, “Stay here. This’ll only take a day or two,” and run off before he could protest.

So here he sat, bulky power armor making it impossible for him to disappear into the backdrop in Mayor Hancock’s chem-riddled office. The city itself always made him uneasy; the Brotherhood didn’t exactly get a warm welcome here. Not that he wanted one. The sooner Nora returned and they could be on the road, the better.

Danse averted his eyes when Hancock entered. Nora may trust him, for whatever reason, but he was not about to be civil to a ghoul, especially not a lecherous, chem-head ghoul with delusions of grandeur.

Hancock didn’t seem particularly bothered one way or the other, for he draped himself over the couch, stretching like a cat in the sun, making a show of how unfazed he was by Danse’s presence.  
Without looking back, Hancock drawled, “I know this face is pretty irresistible, but you don’t have to stare.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but thought better than taking the bait. Hancock just wanted to ruffle him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

The couch squeaked as Hancock rolled over onto his stomach. His nearly black eyes fixed on Danse as he glanced over the arm of the couch. “Jesus. Sit down or something, Tin Can. Do you Brotherhood types even know how to relax?” He closed his eyes, only peeking one open when he heard the chair on the other side of the office creak under the weight of power armor.

“Huh, what do you know.”

“What?” Danse asked irritably. He could be halfway to Oberland Station by now, not wasting his time in this run down town of abominations and criminals. But Nora, General Nora, had given him an order, and he had sworn his allegiance to her. Still, he grimaced at the thought of a few nights in the Hotel Rexford, where he was just as likely to get stabbed in his sleep as he was to contract some disease from the filthy mattresses.

“I’m surprised you can even do that,” Hancock said, waving one gnarled hand vaguely.

_Don’t take the bait, just ignore him._ “Do what?”

“Sit down. What with the massive stick up your ass, and all.”

“I do not have a--” he began, cut off by Hancock’s chuckle. He clenched his fists inside his gauntlets. _That was it._ He didn’t have to put up with this. He stood, and immediately was stopped by the barrel of a gun in his face.

“Whoa, whoa, step down,” Hancock said, finally invested enough in what was going on to actually sit up. His bodyguard and second-in-command, Fahrenheit, withdrew the weapon from his face, but did not remove her finger from the trigger. “You wanna let me handle this one?” he asked her.

She frowned. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“I got it, I got it,” he assured her. Reluctantly, she stepped out of the room, shrewd gaze on the Paladin until she was out of sight. The door clicked shut, and Danse tensed reflexively at the prospect of being trapped in a room with an angry, unpredictable ghoul one step from feral.

The mayor must have noticed his defensive position, as he said, “Hey, relax. I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

“I was just leaving.”

“Glad we made such an impression on you.”

“I have no reason to converse with your kind.” He couldn’t keep the sneer out of his voice, not that he tried to.

If Hancock had eyebrows, they would have shot up. “My kind?”

“I don’t make it a point to be friendly with ghouls.”

“No, _your kind_ is too busy shooting them, isn’t that right?” His hand went to his hip, resting on his shotgun. “Bet if Nora hadn’t taken all your bullets, you’d have shot me by now, too.” His gravelly voice maintained that light, unattached tone, but it was forced, each word bitten off.

Danse grabbed at his laser pistol, only to find that Hancock was telling the truth. He swallowed, trying to keep a level head when the tides were turned against him. His heart began to race when he heard the beeping of his suit, fusion core running on empty. _Damn. Damn, damn, damn._

“ _Your kind_ are the real problem,” he said, crossing the room to stand in front of him, looking impossibly small next to the armor. He heard the beeping, and grinned. “Without that armor, what are you? Bunch of fucking bigots playing soldier.”

The hydraulics hissed as the suit forced itself open, power drained. This is it, then. Danse had no choice but to step back and out of the useless metal exoskeleton and face Hancock on his level. Still, nothing but leathery skin stretched over thin bones, Hancock was shadowed by Danse’s size. Not that that helped at all when on the mayor’s territory, without even a single fusion cell to his name. In just his Brotherhood flight suit, he was as good as naked.

Hancock stepped a little closer, and Danse took a step back, finding himself flush with the wall, trapped. “Get on with it then.” The ghoul would probably just rip him to shreds, not even bothering with his weapon. He’d seen it happen to a number of knights.

Close enough Danse could smell the heady smoke-and-soap scent of Jet on his breath, Hancock laughed, breaking character.

He stepped back casually, leaving Danse with trembling hands and sweat beading on the nape of his neck.

“What? I…”

Hancock flopped down once more on the couch. “Buddy, you really need to get fucked,” he laughed, leaning back.

Danse wasn’t sure how he meant that, nor what he could say as a retort. His brain wasn’t working on full power, system too flooded with fear and adrenaline to think logically. Which is why when he went to lamely say, “Maybe you should.” he actually stuttered out, “Maybe you should do it.”

Hancock sat up ramrod straight. “What did you say?”

“I, I said…I meant…” Oh, so _now_ words wouldn’t form, when it was already too late.

The mayor crossed the room again, this time with less fury, and more flirt. “Now that explains a few things,” he said, “All this is an act. You’re compensating, I get it.”

Danse’s cheeks were flaming red, and his hands had not stopped shaking. “That’s not what I meant, I…”

Hancock’s hand was on his shoulder. He shivered.

“Look at you,” Hancock smirked, letting his fingers brush against Danse’s bare neck, but doing nothing further. He wasn’t about to prove the Brotherhood right by acting like a feral, unable to control himself.

“That was not...It was disgust, nothing more,” he managed.

“Disgust, hmm?” He brought his hand up, barely touching, to the edge of Danse’s jawline. The other man leaned, just the slightest bit, into the touch. His eyes were screwed shut, and the blush was spreading down his neck, disappearing under the collar of his suit.

Danse nodded his answer, without much conviction.

“So you want me to stop?” Hancock asked, so close his chest brushed against Danse’s. The Paladin let out his held breath in a shaky sigh. He shook his head.

That was all the permission Hancock needed, using his hand on Danse’s jaw to pull the other man down to meet his mouth. Danse stood completely still, full lips pressed against where Hancock’s lips used to be, not daring to initiate anything, but not willing to move away.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Hancock wrapped his arm around Danse’s neck, carding his fingers through the back of his hair and he parted his mouth, coaxing the other to do the same. Relinquishing control, Danse opened his mouth against Hancock’s, hot breath mingling, wet mouths tasting and seeking and desperate for more.

His head started to spin and his knees grew weak, a fact he attributed to the Jet fumes, of course. He let Hancock guide him to the couch. Almost immediately, the smaller man straddled his lap, tangling both hands in Danse’s hair and kissing him thoroughly.

Danse didn’t think he could stop if he wanted to. Everywhere Hancock’s rough skin touched his, he burned, a thousand times stronger than radiation. He moaned as he ground his ass down onto Danse’s lap, making them both very aware of how hard he was already.

Hancock pulled back. “Not a lot of experience in this department?” he asked, semi-serious.

It was far too late for shame, now that Danse was kissing a ghoul, hips bucking up toward that skinny body, painfully hard in his Brotherhood-issued uniform. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he admitted, breath coming hard and fast.

His dark eyes widened almost comically. “No wonder you’re so uptight.” He kissed off the resulting frown. “Up for more?”

_“Oh, god, please,”_ Danse managed.

Even if threatened with death-by-angry-Deathclaw, Hancock would never admit how shamefully fast that plea went straight to his cock. He felt himself already leaking in his pants. “Fuck yeah,” he moaned as Danse snapped his hips up, seeking friction. He went to work unclipping and unfastening the many buckles of his uniform before he was able to help him shrug off the top, pulling it down to his waist and baring his muscular chest. Hancock could finally see just how far down that blush went. He followed it with curious fingers, slowly easing Danse into the new sensations of being touched. Every little move drove him closer to the edge.

Before he could reach it and spoil the fun already, Hancock untangled himself from Danse’s lap. Suddenly devoid of touch, Danse’s dizzy mind started to clear, just enough that he had the horrifying thought that Hancock might leave him like this to teach him a lesson.

But Hancock had other plans. He went to his desk and rummaged around a bit before finding a little bottle of oil.

“What is that?” Danse asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Hancock stripped as he walked over, first tossing his hat onto his desk, then undoing the flag that held up his pants. He shrugged off his coat onto the floor. “It’s easier if I just show you. You wanna…” He paused to catch his breath at the sight of Danse, desperately biting his lip, hips rocking of their own accord. “You wanna take this to the bedroom?”

Danse nodded, following Hancock to the little room attached to his office. The mayor locked the door, watching as just the slightest bit of tension left Danse’s tight shoulders. “No worries, we’re not gonna get caught,” he said, leaning on the bed to take off his boots. He gestured for the other to come sit next to him.

He did, nervously tugging off the flight suit until he stood in nothing but white briefs, painfully tight over his cock, a wet patch spreading across the front already.

Hancock grinned at him as he tugged off his own shirt and shimmied his pants down, completely bare. He never bothered with underwear; it just got in the way of opportunities like this.

The room matched the luxurious pre-war decor the office had, though the bed was just a stack of mattresses in the corner, covered by a fairly clean blanket. Patched curtain covered the windows, letting in only a little soft light. Danse could see Hancock’s entire bare body, slim, ribs poking up sharply, hipbones harsh and distractingly kissable. Danse blinked away his surprise at his own thoughts. He shouldn’t be admiring anyone like this, let alone a ghoul. But he couldn’t deny the spike of desire that stabbed through him at the sight of Hancock’s flushed cock, standing proud and curved against his stomach. I made him like that, he found himself thinking, Me. He is aroused because of me. His lips parted slightly, turning up in just the faintest hint of a smile.

“Like what you see?” he teased, acting confident, though he stepped out of the light just a little. Danse could only answer in the affirmative. He’d expected (not that he spent any great deal of time imagining Hancock naked) to be repulsed by his weathered, scarred body that barely counted as human anymore. Maybe it was the half-light, or maybe it was something else entirely, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything more than lust at the sight of him.

It must have thrown Hancock off guard a little, for he looked down and away as he said, “Well, uh, come here?”

He crossed the room in a couple of strides, pressing himself flush against the smaller body and initiating a deep kiss, feeling Hancock’s moan vibrate through him as their erections brushed together.

He pulled Danse down onto the mattress with him, nearly crushed by his large frame, but loving every second of it. As much as he didn’t want to pull away from a kiss, they wouldn’t get anywhere if they both came too soon. He grabbed for the bottle of oil. “Ok, I’m gonna teach you how to—” He stopped.

Danse could actually see Hancock’s mind working, and he didn’t like the wicked look in his eyes one bit. “No, you know what? Change of plans.”

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you loosen up a little.” With that, he reached for the waistband of his underwear, sliding them down. Danse kicked them the rest of the way off, pressing up against Hancock’s side to hide himself as best as he could.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, smoothing one hand along the side of Danse’s hip, down to the swell of his ass. “Holy shit,” he breathed, taking in for the first time just how well-built the Paladin was. Years of Brotherhood training exercises had left him nearly solid muscle, firm abs, and a perfect ass. “Here, come here. Flip onto your belly.”

Danse did as he was told, confused. Hancock obviously knew what he was doing, though, so he would just follow along and hope he was a quick learner. The position, bare ass exposed, face down so he couldn’t see what was going on, had him a little on edge.

Apparently, Hancock could tell. “Just relax. This’ll be so much easier if you do.”

He made a noncommittal sound against the pillows.

The sound of the bottle opening, and the smell of mutfruit filled the air. And then Hancock’s hand was smoothing, oil slick, down over his ass, almost to his balls but stopping short and smoothing back up. He tried to buck back against the odd texture of smooth and rough, but only succeeded in rutting against the bed. He gasped aloud.

“You ready?”

What else could he do but agree? He felt as though he would explode if something didn’t happen soon. Tension and heat built in his stomach; every time his leaking cock was pressed between his stomach and the mattress, he felt that heat flare. This new feeling was almost painful in its intensity. He couldn’t name it, but he couldn’t get enough.

Hancock’s fingers dipped between his cheeks, sliding a stripe upward. He let out a choked sound. One finger found his hole, circling the rim. Danse shifted his hips back for more stimulation.

“A little eager?”

“Get on with it.” _Whatever it is,_ he thought.

The finger dipped inside just barely, but it was enough for Danse’s mouth to go wide with shock. “No, no, no,” he said, shaking. He tried to flip over a little to hide himself.

Hancock backed off. “Easy, easy.” He shushed Danse like he was a wild radstag. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Hey, you can fuck me if you want.”

Danse bit his lip, turning to look over his shoulder. “How do…? Why…?” he started, not quite able to finish that thought. Luckily, Hancock seemed to understand what he was getting at.

“Usually you’ve got to prep if you want a cock in your ass,” he said, as if stating the weather, “But sometimes it just kinda...feels good.”

“Why would that feel good?” he wondered aloud.

“It takes a little getting used to, sure, but it’s worth it, I swear. But it’s your call.”

He squirmed, nerves and arousal fighting for the forefront of his mind. His Brotherhood conditioning chose that moment to sneak in with, _“are you going to prove yourself weaker than a ghoul?”_ “I want to try.”

“If it’s too much, tell me and I’ll stop.” Danse could see Hancock’s eyes glittering in the dark.

He braced himself, face back into the pillow. Hancock, gently, slid his hands back down, pressing along the small of his back, trying to rub out some of the tension. “Here we go,” he warned, finger dipping back down to circle his rim. The teasing lightness of the touch and the gentle, repetitive motion worked a little, allowing Danse to finally exhale the breath he was holding, letting his shoulders relax into the mattress.

“Good, good,” Hancock praised, brushing with firmer strokes, pressing the flat of his fingers against him, but not yet entering him. Danse’s body ran so hot; sweat gathering along the dip in his back as he ground against the mattress to keep himself aroused.

As Hancock pressed in slowly, Danse instinctively tightened around him. “Shh, you’re doin’ fine.”

He tried to keep his mind on something else, to make himself relax, to let his guard down for possibly the first time in his life. He settled on the feeling of his swollen cock against the rough fabric, almost too much. The burn was back; he willed himself to ignore it, to keep breathing deeply instead of the shallow gasps he wanted to make.

He whimpered as Hancock pushed past the tight ring of muscle, dipping in up to the first knuckle. His inner muscles spasmed around the intrusion, trying to force it out.

Hancock leaned in to place a kiss on the roundest part of his ass, not quite biting, but using the edge of his teeth to draw his focus elsewhere. It seemed to work, for Danse let out a quiet “Ah!” into the pillow, and he sunk his index finger in completely.

“Fuck, you really are a tight-ass,” he chuckled, allowing himself a few languid, self-indulgent strokes of his own cock.

Danse gritted his teeth. It didn’t hurt, not really, but it was so foreign. So wrong. Hancock began to move his finger as slowly as possible, rubbing along his inner walls, and Danse groaned, surprising even himself.

“Good?” Hancock chanced.

“Mmm,” was all the reply he got.

Very slowly he withdrew his finger slightly, then pushed back in, earning a real moan. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

It didn’t take too long before he was able to slide his finger fully out and fully back in, putting just the right amount of pressure everywhere he touched. Searching, Hancock finally found what he was looking for, flicking hard against his prostate.

Danse bucked back, desperately pressing closer as he moaned loud enough for Hancock to hear him through the pillow.

“Again, please,” he panted. Hancock certainly couldn’t deny him. He wondered, with all the rational part of his mind that was left at the moment, how they had gotten here, a Brotherhood Paladin beneath him and his cock twitching with every pitiful sound he made.

“More?” he asked, withdrawing and going for the bottle of oil again.

“Anything, please, I...I need you.”

_Well, fuck._

He pressed two lubricated fingers against his hole, finding much less resistance now that Danse was fully relaxed. Well, except for the tight coil of his stomach as pure pleasure began to build.

“Just hold on, ok? Not yet.”

He slid in fully without hesitation, knowing Danse could take it, wanted it. He scissored those two fingers, watching in fascination as Danse’s body shook with desire. “Please, I need…”

He didn’t know what he needed. All he knew was he couldn’t hold out like this any longer. He pushed back, meeting Hancock’s fingers thrust for thrust.

Hancock’s body ached with the effort of staving off his own orgasm. As much as he wanted to draw out the delicious torture as long as possible, he needed release.

His voice was jagged and low as he said, “Yeah, babe. I’ll give it to you.” Deft fingers found the spot that had gotten such a gorgeous response from him, rubbing first gently, then pressing harsher against it.

“Ah! Oh, god, oh, Hancock _please_.”

If he realized it was the first time he’d ever said his name aloud, he didn’t show it, but Hancock knew. “Shit!” he yelped as he came so close to cumming, completely untouched. He doubled his efforts then, pounding into him, muscles still clenched so tight around him as he fucked him without mercy.

Danse’s fists grasped the blanket, and his entire body went taut as a bowstring. He didn’t make a sound as he came, only pressed into the bed and shivered violently, hands clenching and unclenching as he rode his pleasure.

Hancock twisted his fingers once, twice, and then withdrew from him, letting him come down on his own. He smoothed his hand soothingly over his back, nipping and kissing his ass as he waited for Danse to come to and, likely, regret everything.

Ignoring the inevitable, he took himself in hand, pumping only twice before he came violently over his hand and stomach, letting out an impressive string of curses.

He used his pair of pants to wipe himself off, throwing them back down as he wriggled up the bed to lie face-to-face with Danse. The Paladin looked a little dazed, dark brown eyes wide and cheeks red.

“You ok?”

He nodded weakly. Shutting his eyes, he mumbled, “I’m sorry. That I did not...reciprocate.”

Hancock just laughed. “That’s what next time’s for.”

Danse stiffened.

Dropping the subject so as not to undo all his hard work getting Danse to relax, he flopped onto his back and glanced at him.

“Damn, you’re hot,” he blurted.

Danse sat up, self-consciously facing away, ready to run. “I apologize if my body temperature is uncomfortable.”

Hancock snorted. “You’re attractive, you idiot.”

Danse couldn’t help but snap his attention to the other in complete disbelief. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but had no words. His cheeks were red again, and he looked away.

“Come here.” Hancock knew it was risky even suggesting it.

“I should go.”

“Come on, don’t make me ask nicely.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his feet back up onto the bed, turned the opposite direction from the other man.

“Hey, flip over. I wanna see you.”

Danse turned, cheeks burning with shame. He lay on his side, as did Hancock, so they were face-to-face. Somehow, this felt twice as intimate as what they’d just done.

“We don’t have to speak of this again if you don’t want to…” Hancock muttered, mouth pulled into a tight line, “I mean, I get it, you’re you and I’m, well—”

“I find you attractive as well,” Danse nearly yelled in his hurry to get the words out. He froze, as if he hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

“You what?” Hancock’s tone was unlike Danse had ever heard it, serious and cold.

“I. Find you. Attractive.” he said, in halting starts.

“No you don’t. You just got a good fuck is all.” Now it was his turn to turn over, facing away. Danse’s large hand was hot on his bare shoulder as he pulled him back. He still couldn’t bring himself to make eye-contact, but he did manage to pull Hancock closer, until his back was pressed against Danse’s chest.

Danse couldn’t see it from this angle, but Hancock was grinning in the dark like a fool. He didn’t make to move from their position, and after a few minutes, Danse realized he had fallen asleep against him. Knowing that made him simultaneously nervous and pleased for some reason. It wasn’t long before the strangeness of the day caught up with him, and he fell deeply asleep.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

He awoke to the sound of thunder and the flash of lightning outside the window. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was, and then Hancock stirred in his sleep, still pressed tightly against him. He flailed backward, nearly falling off the bed in his hurry to extricate himself from this situation. Ashamed, he tugged on his uniform and boots as fast as possible.

He was nearly out the door when Hancock said, “Typical.”

Danse dropped his hand from the doorknob, caught in the act. “I have a mission. I should go.”

Hancock, looking unbelievably small in the bed, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, go shoot some ghouls.”

To his dismay, Danse felt his heart clench in his chest. “I was actually going to help the Minutemen assemble a turret.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend himself. It was none of Hancock’s business anyway.

His mouth twitched upward in an almost-smile. “Oh, well that’s a different story.” He stretched and hopped out of bed, completely comfortable in his nudity. Danse averted his eyes. “Hey, before you go,” he gestured for him to come closer. Hesitantly, he did, and almost instantly Hancock dragged him in for a kiss. He groaned against his mouth, wrapping an arm around the smaller man for no other reason than it felt right. “Easy, there,” Hancock warned, breaking away. “Or you’re going to have to deal with this.” He was already hard against Danse’s thigh.

He steadied himself, suddenly reluctant to leave. “I have to go.”

“Fine, leave me to it then.” He lay back across the bed, luxuriously, carefree.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t…? Are you tellin’ me you never once got yourself off?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“That doesn’t clarify anything,” he said, puzzled.

“Somebody’s got a lot to teach you,” he grinned.

Danse didn’t get to the rank of Paladin by being inexperienced and untrained. He prided himself on being knowledgeable enough that any on his team could come to him for answers. He wasn’t about to be outdone now. “Perhaps you could show me some training exercises,” he said, forcing himself to leave the room.

Hancock gave him a surprised glance, then a cocky smirk. He mock-saluted. “Ad victorium.”

He wasn’t sure why that affected him so much, but he felt Hancock’s words—so wrong coming from him—like a bolt of electricity down his spine. He’d never felt anything like it, save for once when the fusion core in his power armor malfunctioned and he’d _actually_ been electrocuted. He hurriedly added something that may have been “I’ll return tonight if you’ll have me,” and then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

THE END


	2. ...Then I'm The One You're Looking For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse has an identity crisis. Hancock helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR BLIND BETRAYAL

Hancock shouldn't have been surprised when Danse didn't return that evening. Or the next, or the next. He wasn't, not really; 'surprised' wasn't the right word. Maybe disappointed. Despite what he led people to believe, he didn't actually think one night in his bed was enough to make even the most devoted soldier switch sides. Still, an explanation would have been nice. He hadn't even seen Nora since she took off for the settlement.

He stood on the balcony of the Old State House, looking over his city. Most of the details ─drifters passing through, street signs glowing in neon─hid beneath a cover of yellow-green fog from the rad storm on the horizon. Taking another slow hit of Jet, he frowned at himself.  _ No sense getting sappy,  _ he thought, _ especially not over someone who'd just as soon kill me as look at me. But there  _ was _ that 'I'm attracted to you' bullshit... _ He scrubbed a hand over his face, the action seeming like it took ten minutes.  _ I gotta get out of here. _

It was an unspoken rule that if someone was feeling down in Goodneighbor, they'd wash up in the Third Rail. Between Magnolia's crooning songs, the cheap beer, and the fog of cigarette and Jet fumes, there was plenty to keep anyone distracted.

And so he found himself bellied up to the bar, two beers in, shrugging off the friendly chatter and brown-nosing that came with his minor celebrity status. Being respected and liked was nice, of course, but sometimes being the mayor got in the way of being a person.

He turned away from the resident who was drunkenly babbling about single-handedly slaying a deathclaw with only a shock baton, and flopped down in one of the patched armchairs. The bar was filled with the usual sort of patrons: drifters wandering through the Commonwealth with nowhere else to go, travelers passing by who needed a place to stay for a night, traders. It was fairly common for him to not recognize a single person there.

Tonight, though, was the exception. Across the room stood a figure just outside the crowd, leaning against the far wall as if too drunk to stand on his own. Without the Brotherhood orange flight suit, he was nearly unrecognizable in his civilian clothes, but still, Hancock sucked in a breath of surprise.  _ What's he doing here? And what the hell happened to him? _

Taking care not to draw too much attention to himself, the mayor slipped through the patrons sprawled over tables.

He didn't beat around the bush. “Paladin Danse? Why the hell are you here?”

It took the other man a second to make his eyes focus on the ghoul, obviously fogged over with drink. When he finally made eye-contact, Hancock could see just how rough he looked. Drunk off his ass, normally neat facial hair unkempt, dressed in merchants' rags, he was a shadow of his former self.

“S'just 'Danse' now,” he said after a moment. Despite his slurred speech, Hancock couldn't miss the absolutely miserable tone.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

Danse looked about ready to fall over. When Hancock put his hand on his shoulder, he clutched at his hand like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Several overly curious patrons were watching the two.

“Never mind, follow me. Let's get you out of here.”

The other didn't object, but let himself be led out of the Third Rail, up the stairs and around the corner to the Old State building. For a minute, Hancock didn't think Danse was going to make it up the spiral staircase without collapsing.  _ Jesus, this guy's a mess. _

When it was just the two of them in Hancock's personal office, he couldn't help the twinge in his stomach at the memory of the last time they were in this situation. “Sit down before you hurt yourself,” he instructed, pushing him down on the couch.

He practically fell backward onto it.

“You sleep here. No objections. You're gonna get yourself killed out there like this.”

Danse shrugged, but he lay down anyway.

Hancock shook his head, finding a chair on the other side of his office to wait out the time it would take him to sleep off the alcohol and sober up enough to tell him what was going on. From his comment, he gathered Danse had somehow lost his status in the Brotherhood. He couldn't imagine him ever straying far enough from their strict brainwashing to get himself in any trouble. The man  _ lived and breathed _ Brotherhood doctrine.

But time would tell, and he had enough grape mentats to last the night. Maybe they'd help him work through whatever he was dwelling on earlier. He'd never been one for deep introspection, mostly just living life as it happened, but lately he'd found he had less control over his own mind.  _ Must be going feral, _ he thought wryly.

 

Several hours passed before Danse awoke from half-sleep, half-unconsciousness. He blinked as he sat up, suddenly on the defensive in unfamiliar territory. His hand flew up to his head.  _ I must have been knocked unconscious, _ he reasoned. That would explain the aching head, the dizziness.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

It wouldn't explain  _ that. _

He whipped around toward the sound of the voice, then regretted moving so fast. “You!”

Hancock waved.

When Danse stood, wobbling, Hancock hurried over to steady him. “Easy there.”

He weakly pushed him away. “What happened?”

“I think you just drank the Third Rail dry. Anything you wanna say about that?” He tried to go for 'concerned but casual', though even to his own ears, it sounded more 'disappointed parent'. Grabbing a container of water, he handed it over, nodding toward the couch. “Sit.”

Danse cringed visibly, the memories slowly coming back, one particularly dominant in his mind. He took a deep breath, afraid he might completely lose his stoic facade at any second. “Oh,” he said simply, looking at the floor. He drank the water in one go.

Hancock took a seat across from him, watching him intently. He knew all too well the signs of a broken man...Danse was one step from the edge. Cautiously, he asked, “What's going on, huh?”

There was no reason to tell this man—this  _ ghoul _ —anything. He swallowed down any outburst, reminding himself the argument was pointless. He had no right to belittle anyone. Not anymore.

“I don't want to talk.”

Hancock didn't miss the tremble in his voice. “Listen, you gotta tell somebody.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I saw you out there. This ain't the kind of world you can just walk around with your guard down. You're going to find yourself with a knife in your gut if you keep this up.”

“And?” It slipped out before he could stop it.

Hancock felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Fuck. Move over.” He scooted in next to him on the couch, reaching for one of the few Jet inhalers with anything left in it. Holding it up to Danse's face, he instructed, “Breathe.”

It was really too late for him now, anyway. What did he possibly have left to lose? He did as he was told, taking a deep inhale. He drew away instantly, coughing. “That's horrible.”

“Take another hit.”

Despite his complaints, he did. This time, he managed to hold the smoke in his lungs for a moment, breathing out slowly. He saw Hancock nod, but in slow motion. Everything seemed slower, his own heart beat, the motion of his hand in front of his face, blinking. For the briefest moment, even his mind slowed down, offering just a hint of reprieve from the constant onslaught of misery from the past few days. As soon as it came, it went.

He shook himself out of the fog.

“One more.” Hancock pushed it toward him.

He took it gratefully, searching for that moment of peace.

“Alright, alright.” Hancock tossed the inhaler somewhere across the room. “Now you wanna talk?”

He didn't. No one else would listen, though, not after Nora ran off with the Institute. He took a deep breath, inhaling clear air, gaining back all the clarity he'd rather not have. “I...don't know how to say this. I suppose I'll just have to say it.” He didn't look at Hancock, who had set his hand very gently on his shoulder. “It was discovered...there were records...I didn't know...” His shoulders slumped.

Hancock was afraid for a moment that Danse was about to cry. “It's ok, hey—“

“No it isn't!” he snapped, and then, quietly, “I'm a synth.”

Hancock's eyes widened. “How? What?”

“I'm just a machine. A machine that thought it was human.” His hands were shaking.

What could he even say to that? He just stared at him, disbelieving, as if looking closer could prove or disprove his humanity.

“Nora...she defended me. Elder Maxson wanted me destroyed. I should have been destroyed.”

Hancock's heart  _ ached _ for him. He knew those BoS SoB's were cruel, but turning on their own like this? And now he had no one. “She was right to save you,” he said, without hesitation. “I don't want to hear you talking like that again.”

“But...”

“The way I see it, you've got just as much right to stick around as anyone else. If I need to keep an eye on you for a while, I will,” he added as a warning. Though, he had to admit to himself, the idea wasn't half-bad.

The sympathy was almost worse than any other response. He knew how to handle the insults, the disgusted recoiling. He'd done it himself a thousand times, to a thousand different synths, ghouls, super mutants. But pity? Kindness? It all felt like too much, like the truth of the situation hit him fully for the first time. He sank under the weight of it all.

When Danse's shoulders began to shake, Hancock didn't think twice before pulling him against his chest. He held him there for a good while in silence, before Danse managed a choked-off “I'm sorry.”

“What? Why?”

“For the things I've said. For calling you an abomination. I didn't have the right.”

Honestly, the apology surprised Hancock twice as much as Danse being a synth. He never imagined he would ever hear him regret what he'd believed in so entirely for his entire life. Leaning down to look at him, still pressed up against his chest, shuddering with quiet sobs, Hancock kissed the top of his head. How he found himself in this situation, in this moment...he couldn't understand it even if he popped all the mentats in the Commonwealth.

After a while, he regained himself a little, sitting up, obviously embarrassed. He had paled a little, and his eyes were weary. He hesitated, then asked, “May I stay?”

Hancock didn't have it in him to refuse, even if he'd wanted to. “Yeah, 'course.”

“Thank you,” he said, leaning back against him and closing his eyes.

“How long's it been since you got real sleep? Come on.” Hancock pulled him up.

All the fight out of him, Danse followed, blushing slightly at the fact that he already knew where Hancock's bedroom was. He covered himself up with the flimsy blanket, emotionally exhausted. He thought maybe this time he could fall asleep without drinking himself unconscious. “Will you stay with me?” he asked. He'd prepared himself, after Nora left for who-knows-where, for being alone. More alone than he'd ever been in his life. _ Maybe, _ he realized, _ I don't have to be. _

The question stunned him for a moment. “Uh, sure. Yeah.” He shrugged off his coat and hung his hat on a chair. Toeing off his boots, he slid into the bed beside Danse. It terrified him how easily it came to him, how natural it felt to move in close. He wrapped himself around the other, chest to chest. Hancock's hands pressed against his back, just holding him as close as possible.

That was enough. Danse relaxed slightly, his breathing evening out. Though he was physically bigger than the other Hancock, Hancock held him like he was small and fragile. For some reason, that thought hurt like a blow. “Why are you being so kind to me? I don't deserve this,” he said. He couldn't move very much to look at Hancock, as Hancock's head was tucked up under his chin.

The warmth and quiet was making Hancock drift off. “Shut up,” he mumbled against the side of Danse's neck, “Yes you do. I'll be kind to whoever I want, dammit.”

Danse let out a surprised laugh.

Hancock felt himself grin. “That's the first time I've ever heard you do that,” he said.

“Do what?” he asked, voice betraying that sleep was quickly claiming him, too.

“Laugh.”

“Oh. Well, I do. Sometimes.”

He couldn't resist the temptation of placing a light kiss against Danse's throat, where it was exposed to him.

“Mmm,” he said, sleepily.

“That ok?” Hancock asked. He hadn't really intended to start anything, but now he didn't really intend to stop it, if Danse was into it.

“That's ok.” His voice was so low when he was half-asleep. It made Hancock want to ask him all the questions he could think up, just to hear him answer.

When had he gotten so sentimental? It was almost disgusting. His train of thought was quickly derailed by large hands running down his back. He arched into the touch, happy and lazy. He felt them trail up under the hem of his shirt, over the expanse of his ruined skin.

Danse didn't shy away in his exploration. He couldn't say what it was, this pull toward the only person who was willing to stand by him anymore. He only knew the deep relief that came with having someone to cling to when everything else had gone. So he pulled Hancock closer, no longer afraid of the implications, of the shame he would have felt, had he been the same person he was only a week ago. They were equals now. Always had been, though he was only know understanding.

Hancock tightened his hands in Danse's flannel shirt, making sure there was absolutely no space between their bodies. He leaned back a little so he could look at his face. “Can I...?”

He didn't even have to finish that sentence. Danse had read his mind, his mouth instantly on Hancock's, desperate and afraid and searching for something. He must have found it, for his eyes closed, his face relaxed.

Hancock, Danse decided, was twice as powerful as Jet. Time slowed down, all his sense were heightened, and his mind went blissfully blank. He had no idea how long they kissed. Maybe seconds, maybe days. As time picked back up, he felt Hancock's hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. He helped him take it off, still dizzy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he would come out of this fog, and he would have to deal with reality again. Nothing Hancock could do would change who he was, what he had to face. But for now, he was more than willing to forget about reality.

They undressed each other fully, slowly. The morning light shined through the ratty curtains, but the room remained dark enough that they appeared like silhouettes. Something about the glow and the dark together cast an intimate light across them, warm and safe. The second no clothes were in the way, Hancock resumed his place, completely flush with Danse. He ran warm, like he was fevering. In sync, each ran their hands over the other's body, slotted together, smooth skin against rough.

Hancock debated which would win out, lust or laziness. His eyes kept slipping closed despite his best efforts. But when Danse ran his hand along his stomach cautiously, met his gaze in the semi-dark, and took them both in hand, it became very clear which was the winner.

“Shit...” he gasped, burying his face in the crook of Danse's neck. Though he was overly-cautious, he was determined; that was good enough for the both of them at the moment. Neither had to move very much, neither had to expend energy they just didn't have.

The scent of Jet smoke mixed in the air from both of their breath, gasped out in quiet “ah!”s and “yeah, just like that”s. Hancock didn't plan on this being a long, drawn out sort of thing; both just needed something to push them into sleep, to temporarily wipe out the darker thoughts. He reached between them to put his hand over Danse's, guiding him.

Gaining confidence, he followed Hancock's motions, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, speeding up, only to switch to slower, languid strokes as he drew close to the edge. “I'm...” was all the warning he managed before he was coming hard across both of their hands.

“Oh, fuck,” Hancock said breathlessly, and followed him over the edge.

When they both lay, lazy and sated, tangled together, Hancock spoke up, hardly awake. “You know, you've always got a place here. With me, I mean. If you want it.” He rested his head against Danse's bicep, a blissed-out expression on his face.

Danse wasn't in the right frame of mind to analyze what exactly he meant by that. Right now, he couldn't think of anything he wanted more than to stay here and never move again. Whenever they woke, Danse knew, the warm glow he currently felt would fade, and he would be right back to where he started, lost and confused. _ But, _ he mused, _ not alone. _ “I think I'd like that.”

 


	3. Baby, It's Just You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've really got to stop meeting like this.

Baby, It's Just You...  
(Chapter 3)

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Hancock joked, but quickly saw Danse was in no mood for humor. 

Hancock had stood at the balcony of the Old State House the night the Brotherhood's airship had gone up in smoke. He'd seen the mushroom cloud rising black above the horizon, heard the explosion and the collective screams as it was wiped from the Commonwealth entirely. He wasn't in the least bit surprised, then, when ex-Paladin Danse practically fell through his door and onto the mildewed couch, his eyes haunted and his hands shaking.

He was, however, a little unnerved when Danse held out a hand and hoarsely whispered, "Jet..." but he couldn't deny him, passing the inhaler his way and taking the chair across from the couch. While waiting patiently wasn't exactly Hancock's strongest suit, he managed to sit still and keep silent until Danse had tossed down the half-empty container. 

The soldier's eyes focused somewhere just above Hancock's tricorn-clad head, blurred with Jet and unshed emotion. He wanted to speak, but the words hung too thick and slow on his tongue. They choked him when he opened his mouth.

"If you wanna stay, you can," Hancock said, fed up with silence. Danse nodded, fixing his gaze on the grime-caked windowpane. Anywhere but on the man before him.

Eventually, in a voice rougher than the ghoul's, he said, "It had to be Nora. It just had to be her."

He wasn't entirely sure what Danse was talking about, but hey, talking at all was progress. He leaned forward, elbows on his skinny knees, waiting for Danse to elaborate. 

“I should have known the Brotherhood and syn—the Institute couldn’t coexist. When Nora found her son, it was all over for her; her allegiances lie with her family. As mine do. Did.” His brows furrowed even more dramatically than usual, thin scar across the left one standing out angrily. It looked like every word he said physically hurt him to spit out. “She’s responsible for destroying everything I loved. My home. My family.”

If Hancock hadn’t seen the evidence himself, he’d never have believed Nora capable of bringing down the Brotherhood. Rumour had it she’d taken out the elusive Railroad, too, blinded by her quest to follow in her son’s footsteps. What is it with these people, Hancock wondered, and their obsessions with factions? Just like Diamond City all over again… “What are you gonna do?” 

He stared at the floor. “I don’t know anymore.”

The mayor sidled over to sit beside him on the couch, forced to be close since Danse was taking up most of the space in his sprawled-out position. “I know Goodneighbor ain’t your cup of tea, but there’s always room here for another hopeless case. These are good folks; no one’s gonna hold your past against you.”

The other man didn’t look like he wanted to discuss anything any further, slumping over, empty and exhausted against Hancock’s shoulder. “Hey, now,” he shushed, turning toward him a little so he might smooth a hand over his cheek. He was unsurprised to find his hand came away wet with tears. “Not everyone’s gone. You’ve still got…” He almost said ‘Nora’, but stopped and thought better of it in the present circumstances, “You’ve got me.” 

Danse looked up, lips parted, somewhere between confused and desperate. In the back of Hancock’s mind, he thought, Don’t do it John, this isn’t the right time. Luckily, he had years of practice pushing that inner voice down. Without any more hesitation, he pressed his mouth to Danse’s.

Instantly, the soldier melted against him, wrapping clumsy arms around him to pull him closer. Their bodies slotted together easily, so close neither could tell who was clinging to whom. Hancock led the kiss, swiping his tongue over Danse’s plush lower lip. When Danse clutched the fabric of Hancock’s coat and moaned into the kiss, both seemed to realize simultaneously what they both needed. 

Ungracefully, he peeled off the coat and kicked off his boots, letting Danse drag his hands up and under the once-white fabric of his shirt; running them hurriedly along his sides, Danse paid absolutely no mind to the strange feeling of ruined skin beneath his palms. It didn’t matter at that moment that he was a ghoul, or that Danse was a synth; they were two bodies desperate for each other, and that was good enough. 

He unbuttoned Danse’s shirt, not breaking the kiss to do so. His skin burned so hot beneath his clothes that Hancock almost couldn’t bear to be pressed flush against him. Almost couldn’t. Ignoring Danse’s noise of protest, he moved away from his lips, instead attaching his mouth along the soldier’s pulse point, leaving a mark on the side of his neck just above where his shirt collar would cover. Danse’s hand fisted in the back of his shirt as he tipped his head back to give him better access. 

Sitting back to pull his shirt over his head, Hancock paused. Guilt bloomed in his stomach as he took in the sight of the other man before him, lost and desperate for something that made sense. This wasn’t what Danse needed right now. Sure, he acted like he wanted it, but just because he didn’t know what else to ask for. 

“Take a break,” Hancock said, breathlessly. Sitting back on his knees, he had to look away from Danse’s kiss-swollen mouth to remain focused.   
His head swam. When Hancock pulled away, his words hardly registered; Danse only recognized he’d been momentarily abandoned. He reached out pathetically for him again. He couldn’t be alone right now. Without Hancock holding him down, he felt he’d float away somewhere, like the Prydwen in a radstorm. Even the slightest thought of his former ship and only home made bile rise in his throat. “What? Why?” he croaked. 

“You aren’t thinkin’ straight,” he said, with the sort of tone that suggested he was about to go into a lecture. 

“I don’t want to think straight. I don’t want to think at all.” His voice cracked, eyes pooling with tears. 

Hancock's heart sank. “Alright, listen.” He sat back beside Danse, letting the other man wrap his arms around him once more, nearly crushing the air from his lungs with pure desperate force. The next words left him in a rush, literally squeezed from him. “I’m not gonna to leave you. Let’s just,” he broke off with a low sound when Danse mouthed at his neck, “take it slow,” he managed, putting a hand on his chest to keep him at bay. He couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth, as contrary to his style as they were, but here he was. 

Danse nodded, sated now that he knew Hancock wasn’t about to leave. He dipped his head down to rest at the junction of Hancock’s neck and shoulder, practically hiding there, leaning most of his weight on the slighter man. Hancock sighed into the contact, the two melting against each other in an emotionally-exhausted slump. 

They might have stayed there all day, on and off in a Jet-addled haze, had Fahrenheit not stopped in the mayor’s office, Ashmaker raised nad ready to incinerate. If her weapon didn’t reduce the nearest lifeifrom to ash, her glare certainly would. 

“Fahr, what’s up?” Hancock asked, focusing dizzily in on the mercenary. Danse scooted back, ashamed at being caught. 

To her credit, Fahrenheit only arched her eyebrow, as if an Ex-Brotherhood paladin camping on the State Room couch, canoodling her boss, was the norm. “Fucking super mutants at the gate. Got a couple drifters, blew the sign off Kill Or Be Killed.” 

“Shit,” he jumped up off the couch, swaying on his feet. “You alright?”

“Been better,” she quipped, wrapping a dingy piece of gauze around a shallow gash on her bicep. “I wouldn’t have, um, interrupted, but one of ‘em was carrying Institute tech. Thought you ought to know.” She flopped down a lump of metal surrounded with wires, pieces of human tissue still clinging to it. Danse flinched. 

“I’ll take it to Amari in the morning. Thanks. Take care of yourself.”   
She nodded, shot them both a look, and left the way she came. 

Hancock scrubbed a hand over his face, falling back onto the couch. He leaned forward to fiddle with the device on the table. “Institute, huh? What’re you doing in my town?”

Danse sat back, watching, but saying nothing. 

Finally, Hancock noticed the silence, and even more, the lack of contact. “What’s up?

He sighed. 

“”C’mere,” Hancock said, holding upon his arms. 

Danse shrugged. 

Hancock glanced against the odd cybernetic tangle, then back to Danse, “Does this bother you?” He could see it did before Danse even managed to answer. “It does.”

“It’s just another...reminder…” He looked away, “That’s...all I am: wires and scrap metal....”

He looked like he was ready to break down again; Hancock caught him by the hand and pulled him from the couch, pulling him out after him onto the balcony. 

From here, Goodneighbor spread like thighs, open to the midnight air. In its seedy, filthy way, it held a sort of tempting beauty, glistening lights winking up from the semi-darkness. The air, tinged with the ozone-taste of the Commonwealth, ran cold in their lungs. 

“Take a breather,” Hancock suggested. The cold wafted away some of the lingering Jet fumes, clearing both their heads. “Now, if you want, I’m gonna take you to bed. Not cuz I think it’s gonna fix all your problems, or hell, all mine. Just cuz I want to. If you want.” 

Danse glanced up at him, his eyes alight with the low lights of the atomic-tinged stars, still filled with blooming tears. He nodded slowly, once, then clasped Hancock’s hand in his own. He said, “I love you.”

Both his and Hancock’s eyes widened in surprise. His plush lips parted, filled with disbelief that he’d let the words slip past them. But now that it was out, floating in the open ari, he made no effort to take it back. 

Hancock’s voice was dangerously low. “You mean that?”

He nodded.  
“Well, you know I, uh…” he began, rubbing the back of his neck and looking out over the city sheepishly. “

Danse looked crestfallen.

Hancock stumbled over his words in his effort to wipe that expression from his face. The last thing be needed was more pain. “I’m not so good at this,” he started again, then forced himself to make eye-contact. His solid onyx eyes glittered when they met deep brown. “But I, uh, I think I love you, too…” His mouth quirked up at the corner, all his confidence gone, replaced with a buzzing in his chest ten times more powerful than a Daytripper buzz. 

Danse grinned, actually broke out into a real smile at that. 

 

Not long after, they fell into their routine, and into bed. Hancock straddled Danse’s hips, pushing his back into the mattress as he wriggled, seeking friction. When he leaned over, he could run hot, wet kisses down Danse’s throat, nuzzling at the stubble, nipping where he’d be sure to leave a mark. 

This ‘love’ thing, thought Hancock, brushing his thumb along Danse’s bottom lip, somehow multiplied the sensations a thousandfold, making every little touch feel like an orgasm. 

Danse took his thumb carefully past his lips, siukcing on the digit and runnign the tip of his tongue over it, making a point to suggest he’d much rather it was Hancock’s cock. A second finger joined the first, and Hancock nearly groaned as he manipulated him with alternating suction and pressure. 

“Easy, easy,” he panted, pulling back to slither further down Danse’s toned body. He knelt between his thighs, coaxing them apart. 

Danse chuckled, and the sound was like lightning through Hancock’s veins. It felt like the world lightened just a little, like the starlight glowing outside the window was sun. He pressed a kiss against the inside of his thigh, sliding his hand, fingers still slicked with saliva, between the cleft of his cheeks. “Relax, alright?” Hancock instructed, flattening his palm along Danse’s stomach to encourage him to exhale. As he did, he pressed one finger into the tight ring of muscle, working his way deeper with a barely-detectable speed. Dasne did breath in, a sharp gasp through his nose that had Hancock shushing him. “I got you.”

“I’m not…” he grimaced as Hancock added another finger, scissoring, “complaining.”

Hancock laughed, throwing his head back. How far they‘d come in just a matter of hours, from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. He sucked a mark, biting and soothing with his tongue, along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, which hsd Danse moaning outright. When he removed his gingers, settling fighter in the space and pushing Danse’s legs back a little, he cocked a grin. “This alright with you?”

Danse’s smile wavered, his brows furrowing in intense concentration. “I’m ready,” he decided, clasping his legs around Hancock’s back. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, lining up and pushing his cockhead in, just the tip breaching him. 

“I’m sure I can handle————oh!”   
“What was that?” Hancock teased, though it was forced out through gritted teeth. The pressure and heat were so intense, it took effort not to plunge headlong into his welcoming warmth. 

In the part of his brain that still was capable of thought, Hancock mused that fucking was a lot different than whatever this was. This was more like...dare he say it...making love. And he loved it. Danse’s hands scrambled for purchase against the ragged skin of Hancock’s back, tracing the knobs of his spine, digging blunt nails into the scar tissue. With every thrust forward, he gained a little more depth until little by little he began to bottom out, his skinny hips meeting the softness of Danse’s ass.

The other man wore nothing but a blissed out expression, eyes screwed shut and sweat beading at his temples. He rocked downward into the thrusts, keeping a rhythm that slowly increased, until the two of them were slamming hard into each other, bodies colliding and plaserue doubling to a fever pitch. Hancock took Danse in hand, pumping to meet their rocking motions, driving them both insane. 

“Oh, shit,” he stuttered, plunging into his lover and stilling as his climax hit him unexpectedly. He shook, gripping Danse’s hips tightly as he rode out wave after wave of tingling electricity. Danse goraend and threw his head back against the pillow, following him, cumming hard across his and Hancock’s stomachs. 

 

When the world came back into focus, Hancock threw a blanket over the both of them. He and Danse lay panting, staring up at the ceiling like a scene from a cheesy pre-War holotape. Hancock wanted a cigarette. 

“This isn’t going to fix everything,” Hancock said, rolling over so his back was snuggly pressed to Danse’s chest. “I’m not gonna pretend it will, but just know that I’m not gonna make you do this alone.” He kissed the palm of the hand that held him close. 

“I’m going to need you to be patient with me,” Danse agreed, “I don’t...I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“We can figure it out,” he promised, and he felt sure of it as he said it. “You and me.”

“You and me,” Danse repeated, reverently. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going into my final day of finals for the semester...and this is how I spend my study time. I know I say this every single time, but I do this all for you guys. Comments, kudos, and even just knowing someone's reading keeps me going. I love each and every one of you. Thanks:)


End file.
